Disoriented » Captain America

chapter nineteen

19 x wibbley-wobbley, timey-wimey ... oops?

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Several things happened at once, the first of which was that my usually casual teleportation did not take me where I intended to go.

That was the first sign I noticed that something was actually messed up with me. I didn't dare to think that whatever unconscious state the cube had inflicted on me could've also influenced other problems . . .

Except when I appeared in the helicarrier the moment before the Avengers found Loki in Germany, I was sort of faced with that possibility. Because, well, as nice as it was to see Steve again, it was not where I'd intended to go.

"Jo?" I saw Steve mouth from across the open space in the helicarrier, his blue eyes widening. He currently stood beside one Phil Coulson, who was still jabbering on (about the trading cards, if I was remembering correctly) and hadn't noticed my random appearance -- or his loss of Steve's attention.

My expression was best compared to a deer in the headlights, and I forced myself to give a short wave and a (slightly nervous) smile before I mouthed back, "Sorry, wrong place," before teleporting again.

This time I appeared in the middle of the bombing in Sokovia, and it was with a few choice words that I found myself teleporting again quickly, terrified of accidentally changing the events that were to conspire.

After the third effort took me somewhere else I didn't intend to go -- Ancient Egypt, this time -- I swore loudly, my hands clenched to fists. I gritted my teeth as I squeezed my eyes shut, and with very little precision -- or care for who witnessed -- I let out a decent burst of power and froze time.

Then I screamed very loudly, for somewhere close to five minutes, and punched the wall nearest to me. It caused a dent, but didn't destroy the building, which I only found myself relieved of after the fact. When I finally opened my eyes I was breathing heavily and highly frustrated -- I had never felt so disoriented in my life, and I couldn't figure out what was happening.

I'd bypassed the earlier anger I felt, and was now tiptoeing the dangerous line between fury and frustration.

It was with that much emotion raging through me that I unfroze time and teleported myself off planet, devoting every fiber of my attention into the action. I ended up on a very small moon with no life and a great view, where I took a moment to attempt to figure out what was wrong with me.

Given a bout of dizziness was starting to creep up on me, it was going to be a harder thing to figure out than I'd anticipated.

--

After an undeterminable amount of time (in which I processed through how haywire my temporal teleportation had become) I remembered what had caused this disaster in the first place.

The Asgardian cube.

"Of course, it had to be Asgard," I muttered to myself, tangling my hands in my hair as I continued to ward off the impending headache. "Whatever that stupid cube can do messed with my mind . . . and that's affecting my powers . . . and I still don't know what it is." I paused, relaxing for a moment as realization struck me again.

Focusing all of my willpower (and then some) I teleported myself off the moon, and actually reached where I intended to go this time.

It was not without consequence though, because the one display of power sent me reeling with a headache, and I bit my inner cheek as I attempted not to scream from the sudden burst of pain. Instead, I focused on the deep, familiar voice that asked, "Josephine?"

Had I not been so familiar with who was speaking, I would've been startled at the use of my full first name. Except I knew who it was that was saying it, the same way I knew who it was that was helping me to my feet, so I wasn't necessarily bothered. Especially when I opened my eyes and found myself staring into the all-seeing orange irises of Heimdall.

"Heimdall," I returned in attempted greeting, though the smile I attempted to force to my lips didn't last long. "Having a bit of a bad day," I informed him as casually as I could, what with the energy that the headache was draining from me.

"You don't say," he said wryly, supporting me with ease. "Your distress is evident. This . . . hasn't happened before."

"Great observation," I said, trying to sound chipper. I failed epically. I sounded more strained, and like I was experiencing torture.

"I did not mean--"

"No, no," I interrupted him before he could apologize, waving one hand in a nearly flippant manner. "Sorry. My usual attitude is being drowned out by the worst headache of my life. My bad."

Heimdall regarded me with open concern in his glowing eyes. "What caused this, Josephine?"

"Well," I said, rubbing a few fingers against one aching temple, "believe it or not, it was something Asgardian in origin. Took me off guard, pretty much knocked me off my feet -- literally knocked me out . . ." I trailed off, trying to remember where I'd been going with this, when Heimdall prompted me gently.

"You came to me for assistance?" he asked then, brows rising with the question.

I would've nodded if I wasn't so worried about making the headache worse. "But not in the way you might think," I said instead. "I need, um, Thor."

He didn't seem surprised by this, or even bothered. "I could venture with you to Earth, if it is answers you seek," he offered. It always struck me, just how kind Heimdall was. He may have been the greatest, most powerful gatekeeper in all of the realms, but he was also sympathetic. It was astounding, and truly fantastic.

"We both know," I said slowly, for the sake of speaking clearly, "that that's not a good idea. You need to be here to watch everything . . . and I will be okay."

He regarded me carefully, no doubt doing some soul-searching (of my soul, that is), before he gave a decided nod. "I will retrieve Thor from his current location, and send both of you back to Midgard," he informed me. "Hopefully he can help undo what has been inflicted upon you, so you may fulfill your duty."

Given how long I'd known Heimdall, I was pretty accustomed to his cryptic, all-knowing way of speech. That was why I wasn't bothered by his knowing about what lay ahead of me. "Great. Awesome. Then, um, if we could get a move-on on that--"

"Of course," he said, and without further prompting helped me support myself on his sword, before he called and retrieved Thor.

The thunder god was soon standing in the room with us -- after a considerably brilliant flash of kaleidoscope light -- and he regarded me with moderate surprise. "Lady Jo," he greeted, brow furrowing as he moved toward me. "You look . . . very unwell."

"Flattering," I retorted. I had met Thor, of course, way back when. His was a timeline I tended to stray from, given involving myself in any Asgardian situations never seemed to go well, yet we'd become acquainted anyway.

And I might've helped him out with Helheim once.

"I meant no insult," Thor said quickly, before looking to Heimdall. "You said Asgardian technology caused this?"

"An unknown device," Heimdall agreed. "She wishes for your assistance in undoing what it caused."

"Mostly 'cause right now I have basically no control over my powers," I added. "Which is bad."

"I understand," Thor assured me. "If what caused this is of Asgard, I should be able to help -- and it is the least I could do for you."

"Great," I said, with a weak smile, before turning back to Heimdall. "Now would be a great time to send us back to Midgard."

Heimdall gave me an encouraging smile, even as Thor stepped up to take my arm and lead me away from his sword. "Until we meet again," he said to me, before looking to Thor. "Take care of her."

Then we were sailing through the Bifrost, and I found myself reminded why I preferred teleportation to more magical means of travel.